Mean Girls
by RedStalkingDeath
Summary: Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Season 5, Finals. Chaser 3 for Montrose Magpies.


**The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Season 5, Finals**

 **Montrose Magpies**

 **CHASER 3:** **Write a story set during Harry Potter's fifth year (1995–1996 school year)**

 **Optional Prompts:**

 **7\. (dialogue)** **"It wasn't me!"/ "I didn't say anything."**

 **12\. (quote)** **'On Wednesdays we wear pink.' —Karen Smith, Mean Girls**

 **15\. (dialogue)** **"That's the ugliest troll I've ever seen."/ "That's the new teacher."**

 **Wordcount: 932**

* * *

 **Mean Girls**

The start of the new school year was anything but exciting. The same old professors in the same old castle. The same massive throng of squabbling students, some displaying varying levels of enthusiasm for the start of new studies and others chirping in with loud lamentations of a holiday's worth of freedom come to an end.

It was the new additions to the student body that were the most interesting to Fred and George Weasley that particular year, though. The fresh, innocent little faces that exuded fascination and fear in equal measure. The ones that wouldn't know to be wary of anything handed to them by the two red-haired seventh-year students.

"Oh, to be so young and carefree!" Fred said with an exaggerated moan of nostalgia. "Remember how innocent we were, way back when?"

Lee Jordan snorted into his half-drunk glass of water and spilled half of it across the table, prompting Angelina Johnson to send him a look of disgust.

"No, really, I remember, we wouldn't have hurt a fly," George defended in the face of his friend's disbelief, entirely warranted though it might be.

"As opposed to these days, you mean?" Lee inquired as he dabbed at the spilt water on his dinner plate. The rule of, ' _No wands at the dinner table, young man!_ ' was too ingrained by now to break for a simple case of water spillage. Had it been butterbeer, it would have been an another matter entirely. The threat of permanent stains always rendered any other rules obsolete.

"I have absolutely _no_ idea what you are implying," Fred said theatrically, a hand to his chest as if to protect his tender heart from his friend's harsh accusations.

"No, I'm sure," Lee said absently, helping himself to some pumpkin juice for his now empty glass. "What exactly are you planning on doing to the poor little buggers, anyway?"

"Oh, big plans, _big_ plans," George answered with a severe nod, waving a fork with a speared piece of cake around as if wielding a sword.

"The initial experiments have been a success," Fred offered in a lowered voice. There was no need to alert the whole school to their plans quite yet. "We just need a few more test subjects to track, and hopefully eliminate, any unfortunate reactions."

"So far, we have managed to counteract any and all side effects that we have come across when tested on ourselves," George continued in the same low voice as his brother. "But we need to check them against people with a different genetic makeup."

"I have no idea what you just said," Lee said, his dark eyes narrowed in confusion.

"It's a Muggle thing," Fred said with a wave of his hand. "The point is that different people might react differently, and if we're going to sell the stuff, we need to know as much as possible about it."

"Yeah, that makes sense."

"Side effects could be quite harmful to the potential sales numbers we've calculated at this point," Fred explained calmly with a mischievous glint at the very corner of his eye. "Somehow, people seem keen to avoid things like headaches or a weak bladder."

"That wasn't me!" George hissed.

"I didn't say anything." Fred lifted his hands up in a sign of surrender, though his expression spoke of anything but.

"On another note, who is that frightfully coloured creature up there?" George asked, changing the subject with the subtlety of a bull in a china shop. "That's the ugliest troll I've ever seen."

"That's the new teacher," Fred answered with a sigh, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "Though Roger Davies swore up and down that this year, we would get someone young and pretty."

"Davies has always had questionable taste, though," Lee added.

"True; for all we know, _that_ could be the epitome of the phrase 'young and pretty' in his world," George agreed with a slightly nauseous grin.

"I guess you can't be picky in his situation, though," Fred conceded with a sigh of mock sympathy. "If he decides to wait for a good one, he'll have a long life of spinsterhood to look forward to."

"Is it just me, or does she strike you as not as sweet as she's trying to come across?" Fred mused out loud. "I mean, it's just not normal to wear that much pink."

"'On Wednesdays, we wear pink'," George said under his breath, thinking back to their secret binge watching of essential Muggle movies between bouts of nose bleeding and vomiting during their experiments over the summer. Hermione had mentioned one in passing, and they had decided that it was the perfect source of new ideas for their pranks and inventions. It turned out that Muggles were far from as stupid or bumbling as they had been led to believe. Some of their ideas were, quite frankly, pure genius.

Fred broke into an uncontrollable fit of the giggles and had to stuff a large piece of treacle tart in his mouth to stifle them as Dumbledore stood up to make his beginning of the year speech.

After the long and tedious speech the ghastly woman made – in the middle of the Headmaster's own, no less – it was not so funny anymore. The rest of the students seemed to agree, it had never felt so quiet in the Great Hall. It was oppressive and George couldn't help but start to hate the colour pink.

The three boys looked at each other with serious expressions. This new teacher was going to be a problem. Something would have to be done.

* * *

 **AN: For the sake of this little story, lets pretend the Mean Girls movie is a lot older than it actually is.**


End file.
